Cry
by ShadowMayne
Summary: Sad OneShot. He would let his brother go and ask “Why does Daddy hate me?” Daddy wonders why Dean doesn’t cry. But he doesn’t ask. To him, it’s one less thing to deal with.
1. Chapter 1

Sad One-Shot. He would let his brother go and ask; "Why does Daddy hate me?" Daddy wonders why Dean doesn't cry. But he doesn't ask. To him, it's one less thing to deal with.

PLEASE REVIEW!

**Cry**

When Mary died John thought everything was about him.

That the neighbour's sympathies were expressed explicitly to him, that the cards and flowers and gifts and casseroles were for him.

He figured the boys didn't understand. Sammy certainly didn't.

But Dean did.

Dean lay in the itchy and scratchy bed of some friend's of his father's house.

Every night he asked the heavens for his mum. And every night the old hag who lived next door would come to tuck him in.

And sing to him while Daddy was out.

He pretended to be asleep so she would leave and then he crawled into Sammy's cot and cradled his baby brother.

He would sing songs mama used to sing. Lullabies, rock songs, a classical ballad from the local band.

And he would hold his brother just to make sure he was really there. That Sammy wasn't going away like Mama had.

Tiny tears would leak out of his sorrowful eyes.

And he'd fall asleep. Holding Sammy and leaning on the hard wood of the cradle.

That's were Daddy found him every night.

Daddy would rip him away from Sammy, yelling at him to go back to bed.

Then Daddy would hold Sammy like his big brother had as Dean trudged back to bed, curled up under the icky sheets and sniffled, trying not to cry.

It was usually then that Daddy knew he had done something wrong, that he had gone too far, that he knew for a second that he had sons to care for.

He would run over and plead forgiveness.

Dean always would nod, hugging his Daddy and burying the tears.

He would try to convince himself that this would be the last night his Daddy would be the dark shadow who took his family away.

But every night his hopes were shattered and crushed under his daddy's depressed attitudes.

"I'm so sorry son." Daddy would whisper, caressing his face, and wiping away the tears, trying to bring a smile to the little kids face.

He failed.

He would always fail.

Every night.

Dean would smile because he felt guiltily. It was his fault that Daddy had to yell at him. He knew never to get out of bed to hold Sammy. Never to stay up.

He always felt bad. He made Daddy so angry and upset.

He didn't mean to.

He had just wanted to hold his little brother and pray for his Mama.

And this always brought fresh tears to his eyes.

But of course by this time Daddy was gone, and the only thing to lull him to sleep was the snores of his little brother.

In the morning Daddy would sit with them a breakfast. But he wouldn't eat. He felt too bad about snapping at Dean.

Dean would watch his daddy and want to cry again.

He didn't mean to make Daddy go hungry.

He didn't mean fail.

He would loose his appetite too.

Then daddy would get more upset, saying it things about demons and spirits, saying that it was his fault Dean was not hungry.

Daddy wouldn't eat lunch either. He'd just get in the car and speed, as though he could run away from the pain.

Dean would watch him go and wonder how long until his daddy didn't come back.

He would hold Sammy the rest of the day, no matter where he was or what he did.

And when that old hag next door came to put them to bed, he would let his brother go and ask; "Why does Daddy hate me?"

And the old lady would smile gently and say, "He doesn't hate you pumpkin, he's just scared you'll get hurt." She would tickle him for a moment then say. "But you've been such a good boy."

She would dish out the praise for a little while before singing to him.

And then he would get out of bed, go to Sammy and hold him.

And tonight, when Daddy came to rip them apart Dean didn't cry.

He had learnt this time, that it only made things worse if he let out his emotions too.

Maybe that old hag wasn't a hag, really.

She was a good lady.

She gave Dean his main characteristic.

She made him strong and silent.

But one day he hopes that he'll be able to cry without upsetting everything.

Daddy wonders why Dean doesn't cry. But he doesn't ask. To him, it's one less thing to deal with.

To Dean, it's the only thing he's ever done right.

--- TBC ---

I really want to know what you think about this one. I need some cheering up.

Until next time. Keep Smilin' :D ShadowMayne


	2. Chapter 2

In truth I didn't actually mean to write 'TBC' at the end of the last chapter, but I wasn't paying attention and did, and then I felt bad about making to look like I was going to put more on and then not. So I did this just for you guys. Hope it's ok.

**Cry**

When John died Sam made everything go all wrong.

He kept telling Dean to deal with it.

He told him that he saw right through Dean's strong and silent act.

Sam didn't understand that Dean was dealing with it. But Dean did.

Dean would lie in the itchy and crumpled motel sheets and stare into the darkness.

He'd beg every holy being, and most of the unholy ones, to bring his dad back. He made promises to the dark.

He promised that if John came back he'd give up hunting, that he'd sell the Impala, that he'd go back to Cassie and stay there and never leave the state again, that he'd let Sammy run to his perfect life and never talk to him again.

He'd even die to see his father again, anything and everything.

He'd pull himself out of bed and watch his little brother as he slept. Wishing he could tell Sammy everything he felt.

But somehow the words wouldn't come, not even when he was sure his brother was deep into a dream.

He wanted Sammy to understand that Dean dealt with things alone. That his head worked different from the share and care Sammy way.

He felt safe when he was alone.

He didn't want to sob into his brother's arms; he wanted to keep going on with life.

He didn't know how to explain it to Sam.

When the brothers bundled into the car Dean let his father's favourite radio station play for a while, implanting every line and melody in his memory, ready to be recalled at the drop of a hat.

And his eyes would water up a little, but not enough for Sam to notice.

And then Sam would mention dad again, and Dean would get angry. He'd want to stamp his feet and punch walls.

He'd want to yell at Sam for telling him he needed to deal or that he saw through Dean's façade.

Dean had no illusions about it; he knew it was a façade.

But he didn't understand why Sam needed to take it away from him. Didn't his brother know he needed it right now?

That the only was he could deal with this was to do the same thing he had when Mary had died?

Sam would get upset, trying to talk to Dean. Trying to tell him how much he missed dad, or how this is what John would have wanted them to do.

And his eyes would water when Dean stared back at him.

Dean felt so guilty. He kept thinking John's death with his fault.

And when Sammy decided he needed to talk to Dean, it confused Dean.

Dean didn't understand why this time someone died he was expected to open up.

After all the things Dean had ever seen, had ever done this new situation scared him.

His father taught him to hide every little feeling, to never talk to anyone about anything. He broke that rule once to talk to Cassie, and it wasn't even about his feelings too much.

Then he broke it again in Chicago when he told Sammy he wanted a family.

That night when Sam turned out the light tears leaked from his eyes, _why does the world hate me?_

Then he thought of his brother's teary eyes when he hadn't responded to him.

And he felt a tear slide over his cheek.

_Why does Sammy hate me?_

It took him a moment to realise he said it aloud, and a second more to realise Sam had replied.

"I don't hate you Dean!"

The light was on before Dean could hide his tears and before he knew it strong arms wrapped around him and he lent onto his brother.

For a moment, he let himself go with the moment.

He sighed; hiding his tears and shooting the walls back up. Pushing his brother away.

He felt like he had betrayed his father, that letting his weakness show he had finalised John's death.

But Sammy was satisfied, telling him he'd done the right thing.

But why did it feel so wrong to Dean?

--- THE END ---

Please review! It would mean the world to me.

Keep smilin' :D ShadowMayne


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